


How can I help you?

by Heiipi



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3211490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heiipi/pseuds/Heiipi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had begun with a simple phone call from yet another stupid costumer, which Jean answered with his usual grumpiness. However, as the calls kept on happening Jean took an unexpected interest on Marco Bott, the mysterious owner of a sweet voice living right across the street  who refuses to leave his house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "How can I help you?"

**Author's Note:**

> In my head this sounded better, neater, simpler and more joyful. But for some reason I always end up writing deep philosophical cheesy shit when it comes to Jean/Marco… and I have no regrets, although it didn’t come out exactly as I expected. I hope you enjoy it either way xxx

It had begun with a simple phone call, which Jean answered with his usual grumpiness and monochromic tone of voice.

‘Pizzeria _Dio Mio_ , good afternoon. How can I help you?’ However, in the other end of the line nothing but static could be heard. ‘Hello?’

‘Ah… Hum… He-Hello’, mumbled an anxious male voice.

‘Hi, how can I help you?’, Jean insisted rolling his eyes.

‘I… I’d like to order a pizza… if that’s okay.’

‘Sure. Small, medium or large?’

‘What’s the difference?’

Jean slapped his forehead with his free hand. He just couldn’t believe how dumb some people could be. Was that guy for real or just a prank call? Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and began:

‘Well, besides the obvious size difference there is also a difference in price.’

‘Could you list me the prices, please?’, the unconfident voice asked, making Jean sigh with boredom. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’, the man said immediately after. ‘I know I’m being a pain in the neck but I-I’m just not used to these kind of things.’

‘Oh, you’ve never ordered a pizza?’, Jean retorted surprised. ‘Well then, let me tell you about our menu’, he announced with faked enthusiasm. And thus, for over five minutes Jean informed the costumer about pizza sizes, prices, different ingredients, sides, drinks, deserts and special promotions, during all of which the person in the other side of the phone kept quiet and attentive, merely letting out faint sounds of approval.

‘Okay, then…’, the other finally spoke. ‘I think I will go with… the four cheeses pizza… and with the garlic bread slices. Yeah, that’s it’, he added more confidently.

‘What size?’, Jean asked inhaling deeply and leaning against the counter. God, he couldn’t wait for his shift to be over!

‘Oh, sorry, I forgot!’, the costumer quickly apologized. ‘Big… I think that will do.’

‘Sure, thing! The pizza plus the bread plus transportation fee equals thirty-five dollars. Can you give me your name?’

‘Wh-why?’, he hissed very startled.

Jean frowned his eyebrow and clenched the pen in his fingers.

‘We need a name and an address in order to delivery your order’, he explained patiently.

‘Oh, right… sorry… I’m just stupid, and not used to this’, the other replied awkwardly.

‘No problem’, Jean said, and even though he was stressed he couldn’t help but smile. The costumer seemed like a silly person, but also goodhearted.

‘I’m Marco… Marco Bott. And my address is… Crescent Shadow Street number 6.’

‘Okay, Marco’, Jean nodded finishing writing down the other. ‘Just give us about twenty minutes that our delivery-person will be knocking at your door.’

‘O-Okay. Great!’, Marco squeaked. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome. Thank you for calling, have a nice day.’

Jean hung up the phone, shaking his head in disbelief. _People are weird!_ But hey, who was he to judge? He wasn’t quite the most normal person around, and sure as hell he wasn’t perfect.

‘New order!’, he yelled slamming the paper on the kitchen’s counter.

‘Jean, wait!’, Sasha called, examining the paper. ‘Is this to take away?’

‘Of course!’, Jean replied. He only dealt with phone call orders to take away. ‘Why are you asking such a stupid question?’

‘Stop being rude!’, she snapped. ‘I’m only saying this because of the address.’

‘What about it?’, Jean inquired raising an eyebrow.

‘It’s _literally_ across the street’, Sasha explained pointing her index finger at the kitchen’s window.

Uninterested, Jean shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

‘Then I guess we can save gas and just delivery the pizza by foot.’

 

*******

‘Pizzeria _Dio Mio_ , good afternoon. How can I help you?’

‘Hum… Hi! It’s… It’s Marco!’

‘Who?’, Jean asked frowning an eyebrow.

‘I-I called two days ago…’

‘Sorry, I really don’t remember. We get a lot of orders daily. Are you sure you spoke with me?’

‘Yeah, I’m positive’, the caller confirmed with a disillusioned tone. ‘I’m that guy that had never ordered a pizza…’ Still, Jean couldn’t remember it. ‘To whom you had to tell me the whole menu… which I’m sure that annoyed you…’

‘Oh, it’s you!’, he suddenly recalled. It was the weird guy. ‘Sorry I couldn’t remember.’

‘But you remembered when I told you I was annoying’, Marco chuckled nervously. ‘I must really have bothered you the other day. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be, it’s my job after all. So, how can I help you?’

‘I would like to order a Hawaiian pizza… it’s that one with cheese, ham and pineapple, right?

‘That is correct. Which size—’

‘Medium’, he answered even before Jean could finish the question. ‘With some _Pepsi_ , please.’

‘Okay, and –’

‘Marco Bott. Crescent Shadow Street number 6.’

‘You sure learn fast’, Jean laughed. His curious eyes drifted away from the paper and looked out of the window into the street. ‘Your address…. that’s right across the street.’

‘Hum… Well… yeah… And?’, Marco mumbled.

‘Nothing, it’s nothing, I’m sorry’, Jean said, although what he meant was – _that’s right across the street you moron, why don’t you drag your lazy ass up here and get the pizza yourself?!_ But that was none of his business. Jean’s life was pretty simple and he liked it that way. _To each his own_ , right? ‘The order will be there in ten.’

‘Okay… good. How much is it?’

‘Oh, sorry, I forgot.’ Jean quickly tapped some numbers in the calculator machine. ‘That will be twenty-three dollars.’

‘Okay, thanks. Bye.’

‘Goodbye, have a nice day.’

Jean put down the phone and, puzzled, gave the paper another look, as if it could give him a hint about the caller. _Marco Bott_ … he was probably just another pizza obsessed gamer. Without giving it any further thought he passed down the order to Sasha and returned to his station.

 

***

 

‘Pizzeria _Dio Mio_ , good afternoon. How can I help you?’

‘Hi, it’s Marco. I called yesterday.’

‘I know, I remember’, Jean assured him. After a couple of weird phone calls he most certainly wouldn’t forget him anytime soon. ‘You must be really enjoying our pizzas!’

‘Yeah, they’re great!’, the other chuckled in the end of the line.

‘Are you calling to order another?’

‘Yes, indeed. But this time I’m not sure of what I should choose.’

‘You want to go over the menu again?’, Jean dared with a grin.

‘No, thanks! Once was enough for both of us. I’d like to know what you suggest. What’s your favorite?’

‘Peperoni pizza, no doubt!’, Jean quickly answered.

‘Sounds nice’, Marco nodded. ‘What’s in it? I mean, besides peperoni!’, he added hastily. It seemed like he didn’t want to make a fool out of himself – not again at least.

‘Besides peperoni and the tomato sauce it has mozzarella cheese and oregano. But it can be a little spicy because of the peperoni.’

‘No problem, sounds like my type of thing! I’d like a large one with a can of _Pepsi_.

‘Sure! You just wait ten minutes that a delicious peperoni pizza will be knocking at your door in ten minute in… Crescent Shadow Street number 6, right?’

‘Yes’, Marco confirmed happily.

‘The total is twenty-five.’

‘Okay. But… hey, listen’, he continued trying to sound casual, although his nervous voice gave him away, ‘could you just tell me your name? I’m just curious… since you always answer my calls… and you already know my name… so I was just wondering’, he ventured to explain, probably trying to make the situation less awkward – but he was failing miserably. Nevertheless, Jean found his uniqueness and uneasiness cute, so he just laughed and answered:

‘It’s okay, it’s only fair you know my name. I’m Jean.’

 ‘Okay, Jean, I’ll be waiting for my pizza. It better be good!’

‘It will’, Jean promised. ‘Bye, Marco.’

‘Bye, Jean.’

 

*******

 

‘Pizzeria _Dio Mio_ , good night. How can I help you?’

‘Hi, Jean. It’s Marco.’

Jean automatically rolled his eyes upon hearing the costumer’s name; however, he realized he was smiling. It seemed like the pizzeria had a new fan.

‘Hey, Marco. So, how was the pizza?’

‘It was really delicious’, he responded very joyfully. _Damn, he must really love pizza_ , Jean thought.

‘So you decided to ask for another tonight, right?’

‘Yep! What can I say, I’m addicted to your pizzas!’

‘That’s nice to hear’, Jean said, although not honestly. He was just being a polite employee; he didn’t give a damn to what Marco thought about his boss’ pizzas. Nevertheless, it was good to hear Marco’s voice. At first he sounded anxious and distressed; but now he seemed much more confident and happy; moreover, Marco just had a smooth and reassuring voice, and his nervous giggles sounded cute and dorky. ‘Listen, since you liked the pizza so much maybe I’ll ask the cook to put some extra peperoni and cheese, what do you say?’

‘I say it sounds great, thanks! Make it large.’

‘Sure, thing. It that all?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you better find twenty-three dollars to pay us in the next twenty minutes’, Jean joked, making Marco laugh.

‘No worries, I think I can manage that. Bye’

‘Bye, have a nice night’, he said cheerfully, but as Jean finished speaking he remembered something it was still bugging him. ‘No, Marco, wait!’ The silence made him wonder if the costumer had hung up… but no, he could hear his shaky breathes in the other side of the phone. But why wasn’t he talking? ‘Marco?’

‘Sorry, I’m here. I just wasn’t expecting you to carry on talking.’

‘It’s okay. Listen, I know I’m being nosy here, but why won’t you come to the pizzeria?’

‘To… to the store?’, Marco mumbled.

‘Yeah, why not?’

‘I’m just… Well, it’s always very crowded there, so I prefer to stay at home and order pizzas from here.’

‘But you live right across the street!’

‘Yeah… and?’

‘You could book a table and have dinner here, you know? It would be cheaper, and you could even check out some of our promotions.’

‘I would prefer not to’, Marco declined very firmly. ‘But thanks anyway.’

‘Oh, c’mon—’

‘Bye’, Marco said faintly, leaving Jean talking alone.

Puzzled, Jean removed the phone from his ear and frowned at it, giving it the same deadpanned face he would give Marco if he was there. _Some people are just weird, man!_

After leaving the new orders with Sasha Jean headed to the back of the store. Near the backdoor he found Connie, all dressed in _Dio Mio_ ’s stupid uniform, down to the ridiculous blue hat, about to grab a stack of hot pizza-boxes.

‘Hey, Connie, wait up!’, Jean called.

‘Hey, Jean, what’s up? No work to do? ‘Cause I could really need a hand!’

‘Tough look my friend, I don’t think so. But listen – do you know our costumer, Marco, from across the street? In Crescent Shadow Street number 6?’

‘Mayyy~be’, Connie hinted, glancing at the pizza boxes he was about to grab.

Jean grounded loudly and rolled his eyes.

‘Okay, you bastard, I’ll help you carry that to your scoter!’

‘Oh Jean, what a lovely friend you are!’, Connie mocked with a victorious grin, opening the backdoor to let Jean through.

‘Now, about our costumer…’, Jean insisted, loading the boxes into the perfect-sized trunk.

‘Well, he gives good tips! He’s…. tall… tanned… and… yeah, that’s pretty much it’, Connie concluded with a shrug of shoulders.

‘What?!’, Jean hissed as his co-worker hopped onto the scoter. ‘Seriously, that’s all you know?’

‘Sorry, man, but I’ve only been there once, and it was too dark at his entrance. Ask Armin, he was the one that delivered the other orders.’

‘Where is he?’

‘About to arrive, I guess’, answered Connie putting on the blue helmet.

‘You’re freaking useless!’, Jean yelled, kicking the rear tire as Connie drove off with a laugh.

Cursing, Jean leaned again the wall and lit a cigarrete. He had been away from his post for over ten minutes. If his boss found out he would kill him… but damn it, it was worth it! He was really needing a break and a smoke. He was just tired of his job – always the same routine, always the same people, always the same costumers… urgh, he just hated it all. Especially those stupid costumers who didn’t even care enough to know his and his coworkers’ names. Those arrogant pricks would only go to the pizzeria to be served like kings. With a new curse he threw the cigarrete butt away.

The sound of a motor slowing down nearby let him know that Armin was arriving and, indeed, after a couple of minutes the blond was parking his scoter.

‘Hello, Armin’, Jean greeted walking up to him.

‘Good night, Jean. Is everything okay? Why aren’t you at your station?’

‘I’ve got that covered’, Jean reassured him whishing that someone would indeed cover him, since he hadn’t ask anyone to do so. ‘I was just waiting for you. I wanted to ask you something.’

‘Okay…’, Armin whispered giving Jean a curious look as he opened the door.

‘You remember Marco Bott?, Jean asked casually once they were inside. ‘Our costumer from across the street?’

‘Crescent Shadow Street number 6’, Arming nodded. ‘What about him?’

‘How is he like?’

‘Tall, tanned, with freckles on the back of his hands, at least. I’m assuming he has some on his face as well, but that I really can’t tell. He never turns on the porch’s light, nor the light inside his house. He is always wearing a hoodie, so I’ve never caught a good look of his face. He’s kind of shy and insecure, but he seems a nice guy.’

‘He’s a mystery then!’, Jean summed up, even more intrigued.

‘No, he is just kept to himself.’

‘Have you never told him to come check our store in person?’

‘I might have… So that he wouldn’t spend money on transportations fees, and so that he could enjoy some of our promotions.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘I tried to decline it politely, but then he practically slammed the door in my face!’

‘And what did you do?’

‘Why are you with all these questions, Jean?’, Armin finally asked.

‘Because… this guy intrigues me’, he said lacking a better explanation. Hell, even Jean himself couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly so interested; he wasn’t really one to care about others, and Armin knew it. ‘Maybe I’m just bored of answering to boring phone calls from boring people and this guy was just… different, you know?’

‘You shouldn’t harass other people just because you’re bored, Jean’, Armin scolded him.

‘I’m not harassing! I’m just curious’, Jean retorted. ‘This guy lives across the street and yet orders pizza to his house, and acts all shady; it bugs me, you know? So, what did you do when he slammed the door in your face?’

‘The same thing you do when someone dismisses you – I walked away.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Just like that’, Armin repeated, ready to leave. ‘It’s his life after all.’

‘No, Armin, wait up! Just one more question’, Jean pleaded chasing after his workmate. ‘Why are you working outside? I mean, with your discipline and skill you could definitely work here at the store, and have a better schedule and payment. Why did you choose to be a mere delivery boy like Connie and Jaëgar?’

Armin shrugged as if it were a trivial matter.

‘I just like it outside. It’s less stressful and more enjoyable.’

‘Well, you’re right about that’, Jean admitted. ‘People can real bastards.’

‘Some can; others aren’t. Sometimes we just have discover their best side; some people are worthy of our time. Now, can I go off to do my job, or is there anything else you want to gossip about?’

‘It wasn’t _gossip_! I was just—’

‘Intrigued, I know. See you around, Jean.’

 

*******

 

Marco didn’t called the next day, nor the day after that. Maybe Armin was right – it really wasn’t his business, and Jean had better things to do than to waste his time thinking about some weird costumer. Well, truth be told he really didn’t have anything better to do – he would just work and some nights he would go out to a bar with Reiner, Bertolt and Connie. They were nice fellows, good enough to relax and talk nonsense with but, at the end of the day, they weren’t his friend. Maybe Armin was his friend, but he couldn’t know for sure. Jean liked to talk trash about everyone, but he was as worthless as all the others.

‘Pizzeria _Dio Mio_ , good afternoon. How can I help you?’, he asked on autopilot as he answered the phone.

‘Hello… It’s—’

‘Hey, Marco!’, Jean greeted a little too enthusiastically. ‘You haven’t called so I was afraid you got a stomachache from all the extra peperoni I sent!’

‘No, it wasn’t like that. Actually I really enjoyed the pizza. It was extra delicious,’ he laugh nervously. ‘I just didn’t call because… well… it doesn’t matter, really—’

‘Is everything okay?’, Jean asked.

‘Yeah… yeah, it’s fine’, Marco said unconvincingly. ‘Are you working at a pizzeria or a helpline?’, he joked, again with that faint and insincere laugh.

‘Well, I always say “how can I help you” every time I pick up the phone, but this time I really mean it. How can I help you, Marco?’, Jean insisted with a serious voice.

‘It’s fine’, Marco repeated, this time more firmly, and he sounded upset. Maybe Jean should just leave it alone. ‘I just want a pizza. Large, with peperoni.’

‘Okay, that will be –’

‘Twenty-three dollars. I’ll be waiting, thanks.’

 

***

 

About twenty minutes later Jean was knocking at the sixth door of Crescent Shadow Street with a steaming pizza in his hands. He was never one to leave things alone, was he?

‘Who is it?’, a distrustful voice asked from inside the house, that very same voice that he was used to answering through the phone. Now it sounded more real and vivid, more smooth and beautiful.

‘ _Dio Mio_ Pizzeria’, Jean announced… to which there was no response, so he knocked one more time.

‘Jean…’, a muffle voice said.

‘Yeah, it’s me, Marco. Can you open the door?’

‘No’, the other firmly replied.

‘Why not?’, asked Jean with a frowned eyebrow.

‘Because you don’t make deliveries.’

‘Well, you’re right. But since you live literally thirty seconds away I saved the delivery boys some time and came to do the delivery myself.’

‘Why are you here?’, Marco insisted very displeased.

‘To delivery your order!’

‘Go away, Jean!’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t want you here!’

‘ _Why_?!’, he demanded to know very distressed.

‘ _Leave_!’, Marco snapped, and a long silence followed… but Jean wouldn’t leave. He was the stubborn one, so there was no way he was going away without satisfying his curiosity (was this about that? Satisfying his curiosity? Knowing this stranger? Or there was something more to it? Jean couldn’t say, and he didn’t want to think about it).

‘My shift ended. I have nowhere to be. I’m not leaving’, Jean guaranteed, putting the pizza box aside and sitting on Marco’s doorstep. ‘Your pizza is going to get cold, though.’

‘I don’t care. I’m not opening the door’, Marco said in an equally stubborn tone.

‘And I’m not leaving’, Jean repeated, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the door…

… and one hour later he was still there, freezing and hungry. _Why am I even here_?, he wondered at some point. Have you ever obsessed over something, and that was all you could think about, but then suddenly you realize that thing wasn’t that important to begin with? Well, that was how Jean was feeling. His butt was cold, his back was stiff and he was _so_ hungry. Closing _Dumb Ways to Die_  and retrieving his _iPhone_ to his pocket Jean shrugged his shoulders dismissively and pulled the pizza box closer to him and grabbed a slice full of peperoni. It was already cold, but screw it!, peperoni and cheese pizza was delicious either way.

‘Are you seriously still here?’, Marco’s quiet voice asked, and Jean could hear it so close and clear he thought he had open the door. Was Marco also leaning in against the door on the inside? Had he been there the whole time?

‘Yes, I am. And I’m eating your pizza.’

‘Then I’m not paying.’

‘No worries. This one is on me. Do you want to open the door and share it with me?’, he insisted one more time.

‘No.’

‘It’s your loss, then’, Jean said, and the silence settled in once again.

‘Why are you here?’, Marco asked after some minutes.

‘Because you wouldn’t come to the store.’

‘Is that what this is all about?’, Marco asked very surprised.

‘I don’t know, Marco, you tell me. Why won’t you come to the store?’

 ‘Gosh, you have some aggressive ways of bringing costumers to your pizzeria!’

‘Damn it, Marco, this isn’t about the stupid pizzeria!’, Jean snapped, his patience long lost. ‘This is about _you_! Why do you always call during my shift? Why won’t you open the door? Why do you hide from the delivery boys? Why were you so nervous the first time you called? Why did you stop calling when I didn’t remembered you on your second phone call? And why did you stop again after I asked you to come to the store?’

‘Why does it bother you? This is my life, it doesn’t concern you!’

‘It bothers me because this is also about me, and I want to know!’

‘Oh, so _that’s_ why you’re here – it’s about _you_ , _you_ want to know, _you_ ’re curious.’

Well, yeah… Marco was 50% right (and 100% dramatic), but there was more to it. In his head this matter was not so petty and self-centered as Marco was putting it. There was more to it and Jean had to tell it, lest he wouldn’t have another chance.

‘It’s… It’s not like that’, Jean mumbled. ‘My friend… he said that some people are worth it. But I have to deal with so many douches every day that, for once, I thought he was wrong… but then I remembered you. You were always so sincere—’

‘And by “sincere” you mean that I was so dumb and awkward that I could barely make myself understandable’, Marco sighed with bitterness in his voice.

‘No, stop being so dramatic!’, Jean snapped. ‘I’m trying to say something nice about you, will you just listen?’

‘Why are you being nice, you don’t even know me!’

‘Then why were you always calling me? _Only me_?’

‘You only know my name and address, stop pretending you know me!’

‘Holly shit…’, Jean mumbled, suddenly realizing something. Getting up (damn, his back was really stiff!) he peered to the windows above him. ‘You have a clear view of the pizzeria... You knew when I was working, and then you’d call… but only me.’

‘Well, isn’t that creepy?’, Marco wondered mordantly, although he didn’t deny it.

‘ _Why me_?’

‘You seemed nice’, Marco admitted at last.

Blushing slightly, Jean looked down and dug his hands into his pockets. For once he was happy Marco was behind that door; that way he couldn’t see his embarrassment.

‘Well, sorry to disappoint you but I’m not nice.’

‘Then why are you here?’

‘Because you asked me my name. People normally don’t care about us – those who are behind the counter, I mean. We are just a face, someone who’s there only to serve them. But I am more than that, you know? More than just a face, more than just a waitress. I am a person, I have a life, I have a name… doesn’t that matter to them?’

‘I’m afraid it doesn’t.’

‘Does it matter to you?’

‘Yes’, Marco assured.

‘Why?’

‘Because… I’m used to that – to be invisible, to feel unimportant, to be a failure, disappointing… I’m not saying you’re like this, because you seem pretty nice and easy-going, but I can understand why others can be so hurtful.’

 _Oh fuck_ , Jean thought panicking. Things were getting too deep… and he wasn’t the smartest or nicest person around to help Marco. He wasn’t like Armin, he didn’t know what to say in order to make others feel better.

‘Does it get lonely? There, inside the house… all alone?’, Jean wondered.

‘Yeah, it does…’, Marco sadly admitted. ‘But that’s okay, it’s better this way. It’s better if people don’t see me. I feel more secure. You see – I kind of liked being invisible; I was okay with that, really… The problem was when people started to notice me, when they started to give me a second look… that’s when it got bad. I really couldn’t stand it, I really couldn’t.  The look of disgust in their eyes… as if I was horrible, as if I was shameful… I… I wish… I wish I _was_ invisible, I really wish’, Marco whispered, and Jean realized he was crying. ‘If I was invisible I could walk down the street with no worries, I could look people in the eye without any anxiety… I could eat at your pizzeria… talk to you… and everything would be alright.’

Things looked really rough for Marco, and Jean couldn’t understand why, and that made him feel powerless. It was clear that behind that door Marco was utterly sad and alone, but Jean didn’t know how to help him, or even if Marco was ever letting himself be helped, and that whole mess made him feel bad, for some reason. Confused, Jean let out a grunt and leaned his head against the cool wooden door.

‘But… if you were invisible I wouldn’t be able to see you… so we wouldn’t be able to talk.’

Marco let out a sad laugh that died shortly after.

‘Yes, that is true. That’s why I called. It was the only thing I could bring myself to do. You had such a beautiful face, I guessed you had a pretty voice as well… and I was right.’

‘Tha-Thanks… and for what is worth, I also found your voice very beautiful… and adorable.’ Jean place his hand over the door, as if he could reach Marco. ‘You seem such a great loving person, Marco, why are you hiding inside? Why won’t you let anybody in?’

‘I always get hurt when I do that. I’m sorry, Jean, I just… I’m not confident enough, I’m not strong enough… So I’d rather be alone, if that’s okay.’

‘It’s not okay, Marco, you hear me?!’, Jean yelled banging with his fist on the door. ‘You can’t spent your whole life in there, you know that. You can’t be happy alone, all locked up in there. You have to come outside, you have to feel the sun, feel the rain… you have to go to a nice café and smell the cakes, listen to the birds, to the wind… don’t you miss that? Don’t you want to come to the pizzeria and eat a large pizza with extra peperoni with me?’

‘Of course I miss that, Jean, of course I want to… but I can’t go outside. I’m not expecting you to understand, but I just _can’t_.’

‘Then… would you let me in? Just me?’

‘I can’t to that either, I’m sorry.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’re the first one to talk to me in a long time… you’re the first one to wait at my doorstep… you’re the closest I have to a friend, and you even said that some part of me was beautiful… and you might not understand it, but that means a lot to me. So I can’t lose that. Even if you think I’m just a weirdo, even if we won’t talk anymore, I really appreciate that you’ve come here, and I don’t want to ruin it. So thanks, Jean, for real, but it’s best if you leave. I know that you are right but, in the end, I can’t just step out… I can’t just let you in… I don’t have the strength for that, and I’m not able to bet this moment we had on it. Goodbye, Jean.’

Silent, thoughtful, Jean looked at the locked door, wishing to be able to see through it. He didn’t hear any footsteps walking away; could Marco still be there on the other side? Maybe placing his hand on the opposite spot where Jean had his? _Why am I even here? Just because a guy sounded nice on the phone?_ Jean lowered his blond head and shook it in disbelief. In the end he wouldn’t be able to help Marco; however, it wouldn’t be his fault – after all, Marco was the one that couldn’t (or wouldn’t) help himself in the first place.

‘I guess I’ll never get to see those freckles of yours’, Jean whispered, shrugging his shoulders and turning his back.

‘What?’, Marco’s voice hissed from inside the house.

Jean looked back over his shoulder; the door, nevertheless, was still closed.

‘Oh, you’re still there…’

‘You were talking about my freckles! How did you know about it?’, Marco bellowed with a grave tone, as if Jean had stolen a secret from him.

‘Armin… the blond delivery boy told me you had freckles on your arms.’

‘Did he tell you anything else?’, Marco insisted.

‘No. After all, there is nothing more to say, right? You’ve never showed yourself, so…’

‘It’s better this way. I’m happier alone.’

‘No one is happy alone’, Jean said, only because Armin used to say that.

‘Even if you are surrounded by people that doesn’t mean you’re not alone. Sometimes, that is the worst kind of loneliness. Not only is it sad, but humiliating.’

‘It’s something on your face, right?’, Jean suddenly understood. ‘Something that you don’t like when you look at yourself on the mirror; something that once a random person that didn’t even bother to know you made fun of; something that swallows your whole confidence, right?’

‘Goodbye, Jean’, Marco mumbled.

‘Wait!’, Jean screamed, running towards the door and banging his fist on it. ‘Don’t leave, Marco! I already think you’re beautiful, you hear me? You care about people, you’re sweet and thoughtful! You have freckles, and I love freckles! They make people look so cute and unique! You see, I already think you’re beautiful! So nothing could make me change my mind.’

Jean hold the door handle in his hand and started shaking it without results. Its limited movement and stiffness hinted that Marco was holding the other end behind the door.

‘Jean, you should stop! Seriously, go away!’

‘I’m not going away! I’m here! I care about you! Aren’t tired of hiding? Tired of the silence? Aren’t you tired of eating pizza alone? Isn’t it enough already? You’re not alone! I’m here Marco, you don’t have to hide anymore! Marco, are you listening? Say _something_!’

‘I hate pizza!’, Marco yelled.

‘What?’, Jean retorted, confused. ‘I’m not following.’

‘I hate pizza, I only called the store to talk with you.’

‘Are… Are you serious?!’

‘Like I said, you seemed nice… and you are. But I’m afraid your extra mozzarella was in vain. As you can see, this story is messed up from the beginning to its end.’

‘It’s not over, Marco. Don’t change the subject. I’m still here waiting.’ And Marco was still not responding. ‘Are you there, Marco? Because I am _not_ leaving!’

A long silence follow, during which Jean continued to stare at the door with a frowned stubborn brow.

‘I’m here, Jean’, Marco finally told in a whisper, his voice almost disappearing as a metallic restless sound cut the air. Marco was opening the door. ‘Come in… if you please…’

With his heart pounding in his chest Jean moved one step closer. He could see Marco’s silhouette, tall and tanned as Armin said, dressed in thigh jeans and a loose hoodie, his face lost in the shadows of his house.

‘Thank you’, Jean said politely entering Marco’s house, the sweet voice’s mysterious owner. Awkwardly standing in his dimly lighted hall, Marco’s nervous hand was fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. The few freckles on the back of his hand matched the ones he had on his cheeks. His mouth was twisted into an uneasy unconvinced half smile, his light brown shy eyes refused to meet Jean’s… _and there it was_ \- on the right side of his face, the reason for Marco’s insecurities and anxiety - a darkness around his right eye, a shadow lurking at the right end of his mouth. Marco’s skin, from his forehead down to his neck, disappearing under his hoodie, was unnaturally darker in the right side of his body, full of scars, damaged tissue and tight skin.

Now Jean could _almost_ understand how Marco felt during his entire life. It was messed up, and Jean was shocked and relieve to realize that he, who would normally run away from such ordeal, was not feeling messed up, nor with an urge to make a run for it. Actually, he wanted to be closer to Marco, he wanted to be by his side and hug him. Jean gave another step forward as Marco stepped back; nevertheless, Jean kept moving forward until Marco’s back hit the wall behind him, trapping him.

Slowly, as if the slightest movement could potentially scare away Marco, Jean raised his arm and reached out to Marco’s face. The latter, scared to death, trembling and sweating nervously, squeezed his whole frame against the wall, whishing he could melt with it and disappear, to become unnoticeable, forever out of everyone’s sight. When Jean’s warm hand touched the right side of his face Marco instinctively jolted and twisted his body in disgust and shame. He tried to escape, but Jean cupped his cheeks, now with both hands, bringing him in to his embrace, hugging him tightly.

Stunned, with weak knees and still flat arms, Marco felt the warm of that embrace, a kind of warmth and closeness he had been missing for so long but had choose not to notice it. Loneliness is cold, colder than ice and winter, and a fast and silent killer. It kills your heart first, so that the rest of you will eventually die. Could Marco be dead? For long he would fear that; that one day he wouldn’t wake up, that his body would be cold and dead and he wouldn’t know it; nobody would know it and it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t matter because Marco didn’t matter to anyone. But now… the heat from Jean’s body, the heat he could feel little by little in his own heart told him that he was alive. That all of his body was alive, _and he mattered_. He was someone. He was visible. And someone cared about him. Raising his arms Marco squeezed Jean’s body, smiling weakly and shy tears in his eyes; for the first time in a long time, those tears were of joy.

With a soft smile, while his fingers carefully traced the scars on Marco’s face, Jean planted a kiss on his forehead, and then on his left cheek, and finally on his right cheek, over the darkened and damaged skin. That kind of contacted made Marco’s body shudder, but still he didn’t backed away from Jean. Instead, he squeezed his hand, and Jean reassured him by tightening his grip as well.

‘I told you you were beautiful’, Jean whispered in Marco’s ear. ‘Thanks for letting me in. I really needed someone meaningful in my life.’

‘Thank you for coming… and for staying. I just wanted to be meaningful for someone.’


	2. Hibiscus (omake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set some weeks after Marco let Jean enter in his house and life, Jean tries to show Marco the beautiful world outside his cold house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your lovely and positive feedback! For that I was really inspired to write this short omake I promised ♥  
> The hibiscus flower is really meaningful for this piece, because I’ve always heard it stands for true beauty.
> 
> (Also, I might or might not have been listening to _Tangled_ ’s “I See the Light” while I was writing this!)  
> Enjoy xxx

Marco squeezed Jean’s hand so strongly that the blond’s fingers eventually became numb. Marco was feeling dizzy. Marco was feeling sick. Marco was feeling his heart bouncing between his throat, stomach, ribs and chest. As Jean opened the glass door of the empty pizzeria store, Marco was feeling like he had made the worse decision of his life.

‘Jean, let’s go back’, Marco pleaded, looking back at the reassuring door of his house across the street, that piece of wood that had always offered him protection. He desperately needed those four walls that isolated him from the harsh world out there! ‘Please, Jean!’

‘No, Marco!’, Jean refused promptly, shaking his head. He knew he was being harsh on Marco, but he had to be. Even if he hated it, Jean had to harsh. There was no other way. Cold walls will never crumble down with gentle touches. ‘We’ve talked about this over these last weeks. I know it’s hard and scary, but I’m here.’ Jean hold out his hand while he kept the door open with the other. ‘I’m the only one here, see? It’s almost 1am, the pizzeria is closed for business; my boss isn’t here; my coworkers are on the back cleaning up, so we have the dining room for ourselves.’

Marco peered suspiciously at the dimly lighted and empty dining room.

‘What if they show up?’

‘They won’t, Marco, I promise. They know I’m doing something special here, and they’ll respect what I asked them to do. In fact, they even helped me.’

‘Helped you with what?’, Marco wondered curiously.

‘Come and see’, Jean invited with a smile.

Marco took a deep breath and grabbed Jean’s warm hand, entering in the pizzeria for the first time. Only half of the ceiling lights were on; nevertheless, there were no shadows. Candles flickering around the division created a warm welcoming environment, softly lighted and clear. There was also a nice sent in the hair – the smell of a late night dinner mixed with flowers’ perfume.

‘Hibiscus’, Marco murmured, dazzled, looking around to the numerous colorful flower jars displayed across the dining room.

‘Your favorite flowers’, Jean nodded, happy to see the glow on Marco’s light brown eyes, the shy smile on his face. ‘Since you didn’t feel comfortable going to the park, I decided to bring here some bits of the park.’

‘I’m sorry, Jean… I know you had a lot of places you wanted to take me, beautiful places I’m sure, but I just feel more confident near my house.’ In awe, Marco scanned division once again, his heart now rushing not with fear, but excitement. ‘But this looks so lovely, so perfect. _You_ are perfect’, Marco mumbled, shyly glancing at Jean. Jean was glad to see that Marco was feeling comfortable, and that he now had at least _some_ confidence to look him in the eye… but the blond was _so_ embarrassed he wasn’t able to keep looking at Marco for long.

‘Th-Thanks’, he mumbled, looking down and scratching the tip of his nose. ‘I’m happy. Happy that you’re happy. And beautiful. Yeah, so… I guess we should eat!’, Jean suddenly exclaimed, thrilled to find a way out of his embarrassment. ‘Yep, it’s dinner time! Have a sit while I fetch the food.’

‘The pizza, you mean?’, Marco laughed as he pulled his chair.

‘Are you kidding?’, Jean’s voice replied from the kitchen. ‘You hate pizza, and I’ve eaten enough pepperoni for a lifetime. So this night we’re having spaghetti bolognese!’, Jean announced placing the big bowl on the center of the table.

‘Oh my God, this smells delicious!’, Marco applauded. ‘Did you cooked it?!’

‘Hell, no!’, Jean laughed. ‘I tired, thought, but failed miserably. Reiner cooked this delicious meal, and Sasha made us desert. But I helped them… kind of… I bought the wine, though!’

‘Thanks, Jean. And you should thank them too. Please, thank them in my behalf. You have great friends, Jean’, Marco said, his eyes caught in a yellow hibiscus.  

Jean shrugged his shoulders. He still didn’t know if he could called them that. He had to swallow all of his pride so that his coworkers would help him make that night happen. All of them were happy to help (okay, maybe Connie needed some monetary incentive), but their willingness only diminished Jean’s ego even more. At the time it hurt like hell, but now Jean could see it was definitely worth it; Marco’s blissfulness told him that it was all worth it.

‘They’re great people’, Jean nodded, stretching his arm across the table, meeting Marco’s hand halfway. His right dark skinned hand. The touch still made Marco shudder painfully, as if his shame was being turned into physical pain. But Jean didn’t let go of his hand. Little by little Marco was getting better, so Jean would never let go of him. ‘Yeah, I have great friends’, Jean reconsidered with a faint smile. ‘I really do.’

Slowly, so very slowly, Marco tangled Jean’s fingers between his own dark ones, the fear and anxiety in his eyes melting into happiness as Jean gently squeezed his hand.

‘I also have great friends’, Marco retorted looking at their hands. ‘Even if I have just one. You’re all I need.’

‘And you’re all I want’, Jean whispered in a faint voice, unsure if he was just thinking or talking out loud.

 

 

Time seemed to go by in a flash. Painfully quick and loud, the clock struck the third hour when they had already finished Sasha’s delicious desert and emptied out the bottle of wine. Inside the room the candles were dying and their night was ending. Did they have to go back?, Jean wondered. Did Marco have to go back to his clod asphyxiating house? Jean was having such a beautiful night he didn’t want it to end; not like that, at least.

‘It’s so dark out here’, Marco said at they stepped out to the street, standing exactly between the pizzeria and Marco’s house. ‘There’s no moon.’

‘Yeah, but there are so many stars! And it’s warm’, Jean pointed out. It was such a stupid and trivial thing to say, but he was just stalling. He didn’t want Marco to go.

‘It’s a pleasant night.’

‘Yeah, it is’, Jean nodded. Okay, now they were both stalling!

‘It was the most amazing night I’ve ever had’, Marco smiled, his beauty almost lost under his hoodie. ‘I will never be able to thank you enough, Jean, for everything you’re doing for me. It means the world –’

‘It’s fine, really. I am your friend, I just want you to be happy. I just want you close, so that I can see your beautiful smile.’

Marco put his hand over Jean’s shoulder and leaned him in, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

‘What if… What if we go someplace else?’

Astonished, Jean gazed widely at his friend, quickly grabbing his hands as if he wanted to make sure that Marco wouldn’t chicken out and suddenly leave before he could catch him. 

‘Are… _Are you sure_? I know that I insisted, but if you don’t want to…’

‘But I want to’, Marco reassured him confidently. ‘It’s dark, and the streets are desert, so I feel fine. And I’ve got you, so everything’s okay.’

‘I’m glad to hear that, Marco. You don’t have to feel pressured, okay? I’m here to help. So, where do you want to go?’

 ‘To the park’, he swiftly suggested. ‘To that big tree near the lake.’

‘As you wish. Let’s go, then.’ Jean smiled fondly and led the way into that even more amazing night.

 

 

It was really a warm wonderful night. The stars shined beautifully on the dark sky above, faintly reflecting its glow on the lake’s still water. It was dark, and no noise other than their footsteps could be heard, and that deeply reassured Marco. He felt protected amidst the darkness of the night. They sat under the tree and talked and cuddled through the night, kept warm on each other’s’ arms. They were not sure when, but at certain point they must have fell asleep, because the next thing Jean remembered was this most beautiful and warm sunrise above the lake, the crimson light of a new day pushing away the thick clouds of the night. On his chest, Marco slept tightly with a steady deep breath. It felt wrong to awaken him, but Jean didn’t want him to miss such a beautiful sight.

‘Marco’, he called softly. ‘Marco, wake up.’

‘ _Hum_?’, Marco moaned, hugging Jean’s torso as if he was a comfy pillow.

‘Look, Marco, it’s dawning. And it’s beautiful!’

‘… morning, already?’, Marco mumbled with an husky voice, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He muffled a scared gasp as looked at his trembling right hand, which he immediately hide under his sleeve. ‘I’m… Shoot!, it’s morning!’, he cursed, pulling down his hoodie, covering his face even more. The light… Jean… I… I can’t… I have to get back. I’m scared’, he mumbled, turning away from Jean.

Without a word Jean grabbed Marco’s arm, pulling him close, as his other hand cupped his left cheek, forcing Marco to face Jean, keeping him at arm’s-length. Jean looked him in the eye as he slowly leaned in, closing the gap between their mouths, kissing Marco on the lips, first tenderly and timidly, then more passionately, squeezing his body in his arms, hugging him tightly, running his hand through Marco’s beautiful freckles and tanned skin, through his thick black hair, pulling his hoodie down, away from his beautiful face.

Their lips parted, but they kept gazing lovingly at each other, their shyness turning into joy. As Jean took Marco’s warm right hand in his own Marco smiled and moved into Jean’s arms, and against the tree they cuddled while the sun grew bigger and brighter on the big blue sky, all the fog of the dark night lifted.

‘It’s beautiful, Jean’, Marco murmured as Jean kissed his cheek.


End file.
